The Silver Skein [NoM]

She stared into mist and murk, eyes drooping like a half-moon at night. Zubaidah was hoping for activity around the harbour below, but she had seen nothing for the past week. Instead, each night, the harbour was filled with long lines of sailors and dock-workers busying themselves with night-time jollities. They sat on the street with their backs to the warehouse wall, eating dinner with tavern girls, and took long slugs of a curious drink that seemed more yeast than alcohol. It was suspicious activity for sure, that they would drink such a drink of their own volition, but not the sort she was looking for herself. For she was here searching out criminal activity, the sort which buried men under farms and used insects as a calling-card.


From the harbour-master, Zubaidah had learnt that one ship had taken some of the insects away with them, hoisting sails of many colours. Their first mate had planned a course and handed the naval logs to the harbour-master, but he had not seen them in weeks. If they were faithful to their course, the harbour-master said, then the ship would arrive with cargo in tow within the week. And so, Zubaidah waited. She watched the greens and blues of exotic merchants mingle with the shoddy browns that the dock-workers wore. She watched barmen and tavern girls mix dirt and amber into tall glasses, her own vermouth clutched in hand. She watched the stars guiding sailors from Kou to Reim, and wondered who else was staring up at them.


One morning, Zubaidah caught sight of a new ship on the far-off horizon, large and bright, whose masts and spars dwarfed those of ships seen before. From her balcony, she could see the ship better, telescope and wine-glass in each hand. At first, it seemed that this ship had large white sails. Then they changed into pinks or yellows. Was it some reflective silver material?

As the ship came closer over the course of the morning, Zubaidah watched the colours fade and change, glistening with the salt-sea wind. When noon arrived, the oars were raking through the harbour’s waters, the sails close enough that she could them making low, mysterious sounds, flappings and deep boomings. But once docked, the men on the polished deck pulled all together at the ropes, and the silvery sails faded from view.

As the men left the ropes and hopped down onto the wooden pier, Zubaidah noticed that one man lingered at the wheel. She looked closer, hoping that she might get some better view of him, but he was soon deep in discussion with the harbour-master and turned his back towards her direction. Thinking that the docks would afford the best view of him, Zubaidah arrived beside the ship and drew a seat at one of the dock-side taverns. As she searched for the man from this position, however, she was unaware that she was also visible from the ship-deck herself. It was too late when she realised, since the man had already turned towards her and asked,


And so, they passed the afternoon with food and merriment, reminiscing on childhood memories. As evening came, however, Bran took his leave with the harbour-master, trading his wares from far-off Magnostadt. Thankful that she had even chanced upon her brother, Zubaidah left him with hugs and gifts and letters for their father Silius, before sending him on his way.


Bran had made sure of that when he had given a surprise gift to his sister, namely the jar he had acquired from the harbour-master a few weeks ago. He had known that Zubaidah was interested in the insect husks within, but he had not found anything worth investigating himself. Indeed, when she began her investigation into them, she could find nothing unusual about them, save their silver shells. The colour seemed inorganic, not matching any insects that she could recall or find records about.

But Zubaidah knew there was something more. She knew that had to keep looking, and had just the cheat for such an investigation. For if she did not find any clues on the surface, she could just look deeper. Yes, she could ask the rukh themselves! Why agonise over analytical tedium, when she could ask them about the clues that she required? Thinking this, she placed her hand over the insect husks and listened to the rukh chattering about her apartment. And as she listened...